Gospel Story Finder

Kiera (11), Dane (10), and Annie (7) Bennion know the true meaning of family togetherness. While most families see each other only in the morning, after school, or on weekends, the children in the Bennion family see each other all day long, every day. That’s because the Bennions don’t go to a regular public school like most of the children in Beaverton—they and their brothers and sisters have school at home, with their mom as their teacher. Home schooling isn’t for everyone, but the Bennions felt that it was necessary for them.
“We really wanted to focus on family unity and self-worth,” their mother, Sandy, explains. So she and her husband, Gary, looked into the possibility of teaching their children themselves. They found out that their local school district allowed them to do so as long as they registered with the district and made sure that the children passed a state test once a year. After fulfilling these requirements, Sandy was given permission to teach her eight children in their own home.
Recently, as a home school project, they had a preschool in which the five older children—Aaron, Brittany, Kiera, Dane, and Annie—taught the three younger ones—Michelle (6), Ammon (4), and Lehi (2), as well as eleven other paying students. It was a good experience for them all, but not an easy one. “Sometimes it was pretty hard to keep the smaller kids under control,” Kiera admits.
During the school year (they usually get summers off, like regular school), the family starts off each day with a devotional. They wake up early and gather in the living room, where they say a prayer, sing hymns, and read the Bible. “We read our Book of Mormon at night,” Annie adds. The family also uses this time to practice singing. They enjoy singing in parts and sometimes prepare musical numbers to perform for a special event like their ward talent show.
They also do an annual Christmas “open house,” where they go caroling at a number of houses in their ward and neighborhood. Everyone who hears them delights in the Bennions’ performances. The practicing is hard, and sometimes performing is scary, but all their hard work pays off in the joy they bring to other people through their music.
Of course, the family isn’t always practicing for a performance. Most of the time, they just sing hymns or fun songs together. According to Dane, they may not perform for others more than five or six times a year, but they’re always singing on their own.
While the whole Bennion family is special, each of the children stands out with his or her own unique talents and personality. One time when Kiera was three years old, her parents took her to see her cousins perform in a band in which they played violins. That night at home, Kiera walked in with her mother’s high heel shoe tucked under her chin and a screwdriver in her hand, pretending to play the shoe like a violin. Now she takes lessons on a real violin and on a piano, but it’s easy to see that her love for music started long ago.
Dane is considered the family mechanic. He likes to tinker with things and figure out how they work. When he grows up, he wants to be a pilot or an engineer because he likes planes and he likes fixing things. He visits the OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science Industry) to see the neat things that they have there. Dane also has a playful streak. He’s always making funny faces in photographs or teasing his brothers and sisters.
Annie, short for Annelise, likes to wear bright colors like red and yellow. Anyone who knows her enjoys her happy smile and playful, fun-loving nature. She’s very adventurous and wants to be a mountain climber someday, if not a famous singer. She has a great voice for being only seven.
One of the fun things about the Bennion family is that all the boys have Book of Mormon names: Aaron, Dane Nephi, Ammon Jared, and Lehi. Dane says that he would like to be more like Nephi because his middle name is Nephi.
While Annie doesn’t have a Book of Mormon name, she says she wants to be like Nephi, too, because she’s like Dane and Dane is like Nephi. Kiera’s favorite Book of Mormon story is about the Brother of Jared and how he was able to see Jesus Christ because of his great faith. She knows that everyone on earth has the opportunity to earn that same blessing if they are faithful and obedient to the commandments of God.
The Bennions love to do active things together. Almost every member of the family has his or her own bike. One of their favorite vacations is to camp with their ward on the coast, an hour and a half away, and ride their bikes on the roads and trails there. Dad has also promised the family a long biking trip in Utah in the near future.
There are lots of fun things to do at home too. They have a basketball hoop in front of their house, and all the kids spend lots of time practicing. They also like climbing the tree in their backyard, jumping on their trampoline, or picking blackberries for Mom to make into a pie.
Another member has just joined the family. Little Moroni was born in October 1997, bringing great joy to his family. He is showered with affection from his eight brothers and sisters. After all, there always will be plenty of love for one more in this large, talented, fun-loving family.

Kids were never my thing. I was the youngest in my family, had no experience with babies, and got scared when a toddler looked at me. So of course when I first got married, having kids was a life change I wasn’t too excited to make.
My husband was all for starting a family from day one, but I insisted that we wait. Those first couple months, “Let’s talk about it in a year” could have been my motto.
While this may not be the reason for everyone struggling with the decision to have kids, I knew what was holding me back: fear and selfishness, plain and simple. When I thought of being a mother, my mind wasn’t filled with cute smiles and sweet laughter. Instead, I thought of sleepless nights and limited free time. Not to mention pain and discomfort. I can still remember the first time I heard about giving birth. I decided then and there that I was going to adopt.
My entire life, I had felt uncomfortable around children, so when I thought of having my own, I couldn’t see how it was possible. How would I be able to give everything up for them?
The first eight or nine months of our marriage went by without much change. My husband had this running joke that anytime I asked, “Guess what?” he would reply, “You’re pregnant!” I’d roll my eyes and move on, with plenty of excuses as to why having children was not going to happen any time soon.
Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t feeling pressure to have children. My husband and I had conversations and agreed to take things one step at a time. But in my mind, having children wasn’t going to happen for a long while.
Even still, I knew that Heavenly Father knows more about how my life can and should turn out. Which is why, despite my firm conviction that having children should wait, I continued to pray about the decision both alone and with my husband. We told Heavenly Father our plan but admitted that we would accept a different plan if it was His will. That was an important step in the change of heart that slowly came over me.
That change didn’t happen all at once. In fact, I can’t really remember exactly when it started. But slowly, I had begun to be less averse to the idea of starting a family. I had begun to actually consider it, especially once my excuses were hitting their end. I had wanted to wait until I was done with school—I was about to graduate. I wanted us to know where we would be in the next year—my husband had received a job offer. Slowly but surely, things were starting to fall into place.
I thought it would be scary, running out of the excuses I had held onto for so long. And yet, that’s just it. I wasn’t scared. The fear that I had held inside of me for the past 10 years was no longer there. Or at least, it was accompanied by a peace strong enough to drown it out.
So by the time our first anniversary came around, I just didn’t have any reason to say no to starting a family anymore. The Lord had changed my heart and quieted my fears.
Later, a friend ask me how I knew it was the right time. I had to admit that it wasn’t through any grand feeling of courage or love for children, no burning of the heart. It was just through the absence of fear. It’s like God said to the early Latter-day Saints: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30). To me, my lack of fear was the answer from the Lord saying, “Yes, you’re ready.”
It was pretty exciting, that first time that I could finally laugh and say yes to my husband’s reply, “You’re pregnant!”
Photo illustration from Getty Images
Now here I am with a young baby in my arms. I’m still learning how to be a mom, and I still don’t know what to do around other people’s kids. But I know that no matter what shortcomings I may have when it comes to children, Heavenly Father is rooting for me. He prepared me for this time. I have felt His divine help, even through lingering feelings of doubt and fear. The sleepless nights and lack of free time are small sacrifices for the joy that has come to me and my family. I know that Heavenly Father is aware of our fears and our circumstances. And if we seek His help, He can help us overcome them and move forward in faith.

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.

Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

The assignments given us may be difficult. Years ago I was on a mission in England. One day three or four of the London papers carried reviews of a reprint of an old book, snide and ugly in tone, indicating that the book was a history of the Mormons. [The mission president] said to me, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.” I looked at him and was about to say, “Surely not me.” But I meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

I was frightened. I went to my room and felt something as I think Moses must have felt when the Lord asked him to go and see Pharaoh. I offered a prayer. My stomach was churning as I walked. I found the office of the president and presented my card to the receptionist. She took it and went into the inner office and soon returned to say that the president was too busy to see me. I replied that I had come five thousand miles and that I would wait. Finally he invited me in. He was smoking a long cigar with a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”

I do not recall what I said after that. Another power seemed to be speaking through me. At first he was defensive. Then he began to soften. He concluded by promising to do something. Within an hour word went out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed and tipped in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history, but only as fiction, and that no offense was intended against the respected Mormon people.

I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way. May we place our trust in our Father in Heaven, to go forth with willing hearts, that we may be worthy of His blessings.

After a long day of driving my bus in Victoria, Australia, I was making my last trip of the evening, heading home. On the way I saw two well-dressed young men walking. I decided to stop the bus and ask them if they needed a lift.
I asked them why they wore name tags, white shirts, and ties. One of them explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I asked questions about their work, I felt something fill the bus that I later realized was the Holy Spirit. When I asked them to tell me more about Jesus Christ, I couldn’t help but become excited by their answers.
Unfortunately it was getting late, so I dropped off the missionaries in Dandenong. Afterward, I was sad when I realized that I did not get their phone number. For weeks I prayed that I could meet them again. As I drove my bus route, I even looked for them. Months went by, and then an unbelievable thing happened on my birthday, August 19, 2002.
As I was eating lunch with my wife, Camelia, a knock came at the door. When she answered it, I heard familiar voices. It was the missionaries I had met on the bus! They were just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. They had been tracting on our street and were led to our house. My prayers had been answered.
Elders Jason Frandsen and James Thieler immediately began teaching us. The Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith were new to us, but we easily understood the gospel because we had a Christian background. The missionaries asked us to pray about and ponder what we were learning. As we did so, we felt the Spirit, a desire to attend church, and a prompting to be baptized. We have been blessed ever since.
Today, several years later, I still drive a bus, and I still give rides to missionaries. But now I help them carry out missionary work by introducing people to them and by sharing the Book of Mormon and other Church materials with my passengers.
People on my bus can’t help but notice how happy I am. When they ask why, I simply say, “The Lord has done this for me. He can change your life too.”

It was final exams week at my university. As I walked home, my last test loomed heavily on my mind. I just couldn’t wait to finish it, pack my things, say a tearful good-bye to friends, and drive home to be with my family again. Before I knew it, I would be entering the Missionary Training Center and flying across the ocean to serve in the England Manchester Mission—if I could just make it through this last exam.
I was met at the apartment door by my roommate frantically telling me our apartment manager would be coming soon for check-out inspections. My anxiety heightened when I realized that, to avoid fines, my tasks would have to be completed before I went to take my final exam.
“What are my responsibilities?” I asked. She shoved the signup sheet at me and scurried off, noticeably guilty that I had been left with the last and most dreaded of the cleaning jobs: defrosting the refrigerator.
“Well, how bad can it be?” I thought. With my work, school, and social schedule, I was practically never home. In fact, I don’t think I ever opened the freezer that semester. What I saw shocked me. Three inches of ice entombed a bag of frozen vegetables along with several other unidentifiable items. Inwardly I groaned, knowing I would have very little time to cram for my test.
Without time to let the refrigerator defrost correctly, I turned to more creative ways. I tried picking at it with silverware, but the ice was solid. I borrowed a screwdriver and began chopping at the ice, making some headway. Encouraged by my progress, I became a bit careless, and after chipping away a large piece, I heard a quiet “sssssssss” sound, like air seeping out of a tire. Upon closer examination, I discovered a small puncture to the plastic-covered piping at the back of the freezer. After a few attempts to repair the hole, I called the apartment manager, who soberly congratulated me on “buying” my first refrigerator.
The weight of his words on my mind equaled the weight of the refrigerator. In one careless moment, I had incurred a debt I couldn’t possibly hope to pay. My savings were for my mission, and even then, I had to rely heavily on my parents for financial help.
I called my mom and dad in my time of great need. I felt terrible. After all they had done for me, how could I ask them to buy a useless refrigerator? I will never forget the feelings of love and compassion my dad expressed, assuring me that he would find a way to pay for it on my behalf.
Though I greatly appreciated his help at the time, it wasn’t until I was on my mission, trying to teach someone about the Atonement that my mind turned back to my broken refrigerator experience.
Essentially, we all have a debt, a broken refrigerator so to speak, that we can’t possibly pay for. Because of Jesus Christ, we do not have to suffer and carry the burdens of sin if we choose to repent. He has paid the price for each of us. It is only in and through His love and grace that we are able to go on and progress toward exaltation.
I echo the words of the prophet Jacob: “Oh how great the plan of our God!” (2 Ne. 9:13). Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is so perfect, so complete. I am and will be eternally thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know He loves me.
“For some reason, we think the Atonement of Christ applies only at the end of mortal life to redemption from the Fall, from spiritual death. It is much more than that. It is an ever-present power to call upon in everyday life. When we are racked or harrowed up or tormented by guilt or burdened with grief, He can heal us. While we do not fully understand how the Atonement of Christ was made, we can experience ‘the peace of God, which passeth all understanding’ (Philip. 4:7).”—President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand,” Ensign, May 2001, 23.
These verses are good cross-references for the third article of faith: Mosiah 3:9, 17; D&C 84:20–22; D&C 130:20–21.
These articles in the Gospel Library at www.lds.org also talk about the Atonement: “The Light and Life of the World” (Ensign, Nov. 1987), by Elder Dallin H. Oaks; and “How Men Are Saved” (Ensign, Nov. 1974), by President Marion H. Romney.
Next month in this series, read about the first principles and ordinances of the gospel in a young woman’s conversion story.

Billy knew if he could ever win the permanent position as center fielder for the Highland Lake Tigers, he would have to prove himself now. Hermie had just walloped the ball, and it was sailing straight for center field.
Billy could not take his eyes off the white ball. He knew that with his poor eyesight if he looked away for even an instant, he might not be able to again locate the ball in time. Billy also knew that if he would only put on his new glasses, he could see perfectly. But he wasn’t going to give his teammates a chance to call him “four-eyes.” No sir! Those glasses were going to stay under the socks in his dresser drawer for the whole summer vacation.
The ball was dropping fast now, and as Billy ran toward it with his outstretched arms, he ran smack into Marty. The collision left both Billy and Marty sprawled on the grass with the ball on the ground between them. Billy jumped to his feet, but he was too late. Hermie was on third!
“Oh, Billy!” groaned Marty, “What’s the matter with you? You’d think I was invisible the way you ran into me.”
Billy muttered something under his breath about the accident being Marty’s fault. But Billy knew who was at fault. He should have seen Marty standing there! After all, Marty was the tallest boy on the team this year.
When the game was over, Billy walked over to watch Mr. Francers, who was busily sanding the weathered bottom of his boat. Billy sat down dejectedly on a pile of old lumber.
“Well, that was a bit of bad luck you had out there, Billy,” Mr. Francers sympathized.
“I guess so,” sighed Billy. “I sure missed that ball.”
“But you didn’t miss Marty!” chuckled Mr. Francers. “When you arrived last week and I helped your family unload the station wagon, didn’t I see you wearing a pair of glasses?”
“I guess so,” admitted Billy. Then he told Mr. Francers how he was afraid the other boys would laugh at him, and so he had decided to keep his glasses in a drawer all summer.
“I know just how you feel, Billy,” Mr. Francers smiled. “I began wearing glasses when I was younger than you, and I must admit they were a nuisance.”
Mr. Francers paused for a minute as if he were remembering something, and then he continued, “It’s a funny thing, Billy, but I tried to get by without wearing my glasses just like you’re doing. Then one day when I was playing baseball, I looked around at my teammates and realized that baseball is a true team sport! I expected the best from each of my teammates. But there was one boy on the team who was not giving his very best—me! From that day on I always wore my glasses. I’m sure if I hadn’t, my baseball career would have gone no further than those sandlot games.”
“Did you play professional baseball?” gasped Billy.
“Yes, fifteen years in the major leagues—and I loved every minute of it!”
“Wow!” cried Billy, jumping up. “I didn’t know that!” Billy hesitated and then added, “I just remembered something I left at the cottage. I’ll see you later.”
As the afternoon breezes began picking up off the lake and small clouds of dust swirled around homeplate, Billy was given another chance at center field. But Billy knew that this time it was going to be different—he would be doing his best. He was being honest with his teammates and honest with himself. Billy could see this fact quite easily now—especially with his new glasses!

The story is similar with Shannon M., 16, who has earned her Young Womanhood Recognition, and Lucy W., 14. Lucy was halfway through her Personal Progress as a Beehive. She stumbled across the third value experience for Faith and hit a wall.
“I was supposed to look in the Bible Dictionary or True to the Faith,” says Lucy. “I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know exactly what to look for or how I could use it toward my experience.”
Shannon mentored Lucy, and the two went through the reading materials and set goals. Lucy was able to complete the value experience and carry out a family home evening, completing her goal. This experience strengthened Lucy’s testimony and helped her stick with Personal Progress.
“When you finish something and you have to pray about it and write about it in your journal, it strengthens your relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.”
Shannon says that working on Personal Progress helped confirm the testimony she knew she had. “I was born into the Church, and I never really had that experience where I thought, ‘I know this Church is true’—until Personal Progress,” says Shannon. “It has backed my testimony up. That was the turning point.”

Nancy Ashby of Draper, Utah, tells the following experience: “I was having my doubts about the Church. Was it really true? Was it really worth all the effort? Wouldn’t it be all right to marry outside of the Church (which I was seriously considering at the time)? After this life is over, is there really anything else?

“Then my mother asked me to do some typing for her. It turned out to be genealogy sheets. She also handed me an article on genealogy that included the statement:

“‘It matters not what else we have been called to do, or what position we may occupy, or how faithfully in other ways we have labored in the Church, none is exempt from this great obligation. It is required of the apostle as well as the humblest elder. Place, or distinction, or long service in the Church, in the mission field, the stakes of Zion, or where or how else it may have been, will not entitle one to disregard the salvation of one’s dead.’ (Joseph Fielding Smith, Doctrines of Salvation, vol. 2, pp. 148–49.)

“I decided to do something about all this, considering the words of the Savior: ‘If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.’ (John 7:17.) I found that genealogy can be fascinating and fun—and for me it has resulted in a firm testimony and conviction of all the other principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It changed my life.”

The Book of Commandments, published in 1833, was much like our modern-day Doctrine and Covenants, except it included fewer revelations. The Prophet Joseph Smith had received more than 60 revelations for the Church, and they were recorded, but only a few people had access to them. A conference was held in the office of the Evening and Morning Star at Independence, Missouri, on May 29, 1832 to dedicate the printing establishment. Bishop Edward Partridge offered the dedicatory prayer (see Journal History, May 29, 1832). With the establishment of a printing press, it was possible to publish the revelations so more of the Saints could have access to them.
On July 20, 1833, during the printing of the Book of Commandments, mobs trying to force the Saints out of Missouri demolished the printing press. The mob nearly destroyed all the unbound sheets of the Book of Commandments that had been printed. Fortunately, Caroline and Mary Elizabeth Rollins, sisters who were 12 and 14, saved some of the unbound sheets that they saw the mob throw on the ground outside the printing office. They grabbed as many of the sheets as they could and ran, escaping from the mob through a gap in a fence and running into a cornfield. Later, the saved copies were bound, and each of the girls received her own copy of the Book of Commandments.

When our children were small, my wife Mary and I decided to follow a tradition which my father taught when I was a child. He would meet with each child individually to help us set goals. Then he would teach us how church, school, and extracurricular activities would help us achieve those goals. He had three rules:
We needed to have worthwhile goals.
We could change our goals at any time.
Whatever goal we chose, we had to diligently work towards it.
When our son, Larry, was five years old, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said he wanted to be a doctor like Uncle Joe. Larry had experienced a serious operation and had acquired great respect for doctors, especially his Uncle Joe. I told Larry how all the worthwhile things he was doing would help prepare him to be a doctor.
Several months later, I asked him again what he would like to be. This time he said he wanted to be an airline pilot. Changing the goal was fine, so I explained how his various activities would help him achieve his new goal.
Almost as an afterthought I said, “Larry, last time we talked you wanted to be a doctor. What changed your mind?” He answered, “I still like the idea of being a doctor, but Uncle Joe works on Saturday mornings, and I don’t want to miss Saturday-morning cartoons.” Since that time our family has labeled a distraction from a worthwhile goal as a Saturday-morning cartoon.

Dear brothers and sisters, although he passed away 20 years ago, there are times I miss my father. Easter promises I will see him again.
When I was in graduate school in England, my father came to visit. His father’s heart knew I missed home.
My father loved adventure except in food. Even in France, noted for its cuisine, he would say, “Let’s eat Chinese food.” A long-serving patriarch in the Church, my father was spiritual and compassionate. One night, as emergency vehicles with loud sirens raced through Paris, he said, “Gerrit, those cries are the wounds of a city.”
On that trip, I felt other cries and wounds. A young woman was selling ice cream from a small pushcart. Her wafer cones were just the size for a single scoop of ice cream. For some reason, a large man confronted the young woman. Yelling and pushing, he tipped over her cart, spilling her ice-cream cones. There was nothing I could do as he crushed the cones with his boots. I can still see the young woman on her knees in the street, trying to save broken wafer pieces, tears of anguish streaming down her face. Her image haunts me, a reminder of the unkindness, uncaring, misunderstanding we too often inflict on each other.

In the summertime, Elder Asay and his brothers spent some time with their father on the mountain range. He was a forest guard with the U.S. Forest Service each summer, and the boys loved to go with him. This was another ideal time for teaching and training. “We spent a lot of time in the canyons and the parks, repairing, painting, clearing trails, and doing other things for the Forest Service. It was great to be together out in nature,” Elder Asay recalled.
One such learning opportunity took place one day in a park where they were all working together, repairing some tables and benches at one of the camp picnic facilities. “My brother, who was about twelve at the time, found a full pack of cigarettes. And Dad must have seen him stealthily put it into his pocket. He called us together and asked him what he had picked up. My brother pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket. Dad said, ‘Open the pack.’
“Dad instructed each one of us to take one, saying, ‘Put it in your mouth and see how it tastes.’ Very quickly he had four spitting boys on his hands. Dad asked if any of us had liked the taste. We all said no. Then he told us to remember this experience, and added, ‘Tobacco doesn’t taste good, it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t in accord with God’s law.’
“We made a pact then and there that we would never touch cigarettes again.”

Did you know that your testimony has a powerful influence on your daughters? I knew my father had a testimony. I knew he loved the Lord. And because my father loved the Lord, I did too. I knew he cared about the widows because he took his vacation to paint the home of the widow who lived next door. I thought that was the greatest vacation our family ever had because he taught me how to paint! You will bless the life of your daughter for years to come if you will look for ways to spend time with her and to share your testimony with her.

My thanks to the fellow who asked a question about his mother’s death in the April 1990 issue. It seems that the New Era knows everything that is happening to people. I am on a mission and my mother died a few months ago. I was given two days to go to the funeral. I came back to the mission field, and even though I knew where she was going, it was hard to endure.
Later, when I was transferred to the city I am at now, the first gift I got was the New Era. I opened it to the Question and Answer column. The ideas and experiences shared by the New Era and its contributors helped me. I very much appreciate the way you answer questions and I hope your magazine will continue, for it provides good services.
Elder Akpan, Okon ImohNigeria, West Africa

Not too long ago, I was struggling so much with anxiety. But instead of withdrawing from others, I prayed to Heavenly Father for help, and the Spirit helped me see a life-changing truth:
We need each other.
Even though anxiety can make me want to withdraw from others, isolating myself is not what Heavenly Father wants for me. The adversary wants us to feel disconnected—that we don’t belong, especially in our challenges. But when I rely on the Savior to give me strength to reach out to my siblings or friends about my challenges, they respond with love and help me keep moving forward.

Soon after young Gordon was ordained a deacon, his father took him to stake priesthood meeting. To open the meeting, the men sang “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, number 27), a wonderful song about the Prophet Joseph Smith. Of that experience, President Hinckley said: “Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. There came into my boyish heart a knowledge, placed there by the Holy Spirit, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of the Almighty” (“Joseph the Seer,” Ensign, May 1977, 66). Throughout his life, Gordon B. Hinckley has borne powerful testimony of Joseph Smith.

Countless are the acts of service provided by the vast army of Relief Society visiting teachers. A few years ago I heard of two of them who aided a grieving widow, Angela, the granddaughter of a cousin of mine. Angela’s husband and a friend of his had gone snowmobiling and had become victims of suffocation through a snowslide. Each of them left a pregnant wife—in Angela’s case, their first child, and in the other case, a wife not only expecting a child but also the mother of a toddler. In the funeral held for Angela’s husband, the bishop reported that upon hearing of the tragic accident, he had gone immediately to Angela’s home. Almost as soon as he arrived, the doorbell sounded. The door was opened, and there stood Angela’s two visiting teachers. The bishop said he watched as they so sincerely expressed to Angela their love and compassion. The three women cried together, and it was apparent that these two fine visiting teachers cared deeply about Angela. As perhaps only women can, they gently indicated—without being asked—exactly what help they would be providing. That they would be close by as long as Angela needed them was obvious. The bishop expressed his deep gratitude in knowing they would be a real source of comfort to her in the days ahead.

The young people from the Lacey First Ward remember the roots of their area at least once a year when they gather enough wild food from the seashores and hillsides around Lacey to have a first class “wild” banquet.
To prepare for this year’s dinner, they dug clams at nearby Potlatch State Park and collected enough butter clams, horse clams, and cockles to make clam chowder and still have fresh-steamed butter clams. While some of the young people were digging clams at low tide, others waded out with small landing nets and caught crabs. Still others put out small crab pots. Each crab was carefully examined to make sure it was a male and was of legal keeping size—more than six inches across its shell. The young people went to a member’s farm and picked several pails of wild blackberries. Another member in the ward donated some salmon, and the dinner was well on its way to becoming a reality. Much of the preparation was done before the day of the banquet when corn and other garden produce appeared out of members’ gardens and blackberry pies made almost unbearably good smells in several kitchens.
All of the young people and many of their parents met at the lovely Tolmie State Park where they enjoyed canoeing and volleyball and general beach-combing before they feasted on the fruits of their foraging.

Some years ago Albert Peters told of the experience he and his companion had of a man being born again. One day they went to the hut of Atiati in the village of Sasina in Samoa. There they found an unshaven, misshapen man lying on a bed. He wanted to hear their message. They presented the first discussion, bore witness to him, and then left. As they walked away, they discussed Atiati’s condition; he had had polio 22 years before that had left him without the use of his arms or legs, so how could he ever be baptized, being so completely disabled?

When they visited their new friend the next day, he was bright and clean-shaven; even his bedding had been changed. “Today,” he said, “I begin to live again, because yesterday my prayers were answered. … I have waited for more than 20 years for someone to come and tell me that they have the true gospel of Christ.”

For several weeks the two missionaries taught this sincere, intelligent man. He asked them to fast with him so that he would have the strength to go down into the water and be baptized. The nearest baptismal font was eight miles (13 km) away. So they carried him to their car and drove him to the chapel. Then Elder Peters and his companion picked up Atiati and carried him to the font. Atiati said, “Please, put me down. This is the most important event in my life. I know without a doubt in my mind that this is the only way to eternal salvation. I will not be carried to my salvation!” So they lowered Atiati to the ground. After a huge effort, he managed to pull himself up. The man who had lain 20 years without moving was now standing. Slowly, one shaky step at a time, Atiati went down the steps and into the water, where the astonished missionary took him by the hand and baptized him.

He told Elder Peters that he knew that he would be able to walk on the morning of his baptism. He said, “Since faith can move a stubborn mountain, I had no doubt in my mind that it would mend these limbs of mine.” (See “One Trembling Step at a Time,” Liahona, June 1995, 28–31; Ensign, June 1994, 56–58.) I believe we can say that Atiati was truly born again!